


If beauty were time, you'd be an eternity

by BrassHeart



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: College Professors AU, F/F, IT'S SO FLUFFY, danny's a bit of a dick in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2686415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrassHeart/pseuds/BrassHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought I was the big damn hero of our story, Laura.”<br/>“You still are the big damn hero.” </p>
<p>Sometimes the smallest acts of kindness can set off a chain of events that are made of dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If beauty were time, you'd be an eternity

**Author's Note:**

> We all need a bit of happy Hollstein coming up to episode 36, and after episode 34 and 35. This is will probably rot your teeth.

The day Laura Hollis first _properly_ met Carmilla Karnstein was an ordinary summer's day; the sun hung bright in the sky like an illuminated clock counting down until the Earth titled and welcomed the cold embrace of winter.

Laura ran around her still unpacked apartment, grabbing a shoe there and a brush there, getting ready for her first lecture of the semester. She reached the door of her small apartment and took a calming breath. She rolled around the weight of her new title on her shoulders until it sagged comfortably against her small frame.

Dr Laura Hollis, Professor of Journalism.

It had such a nice ring to it that it made Laura sigh happily for the first few weeks of her getting the position. It's not like she called all of her family, whether she knew them well or not, when the letter came through just to be able to enunciate her new title – that would be preposterous (and oh so very true).

And so, with the comfortable weight of her title on her shoulders she headed off to her lectures – only to realise at the end of the day that she may indeed need a TA, because wow, grading so many papers should be illegal and really who cares about papers anyway.

Maybe that was the reason the Dean of Students looked at her so funny when she said she'd rather do everything herself at the start of the term.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , she chastised herself as she rotated her wrist to alleviate the stiffness, promptly returning to grading the papers. A rapidly cooling chocolate guarding her as she conquered the remaining few dozen papers. She made a point to visit the Dean the next day.

A new TA appeared a week later.

Soon, sooner than she thought, Laura fell into a routine.

She made friends with LaFontaine, a biology lecturer, and their girlfriend, Perry, educations lecturer, (although neither of the two admitted their relationship, it was a well known fact that they lived together – whether there was one the other was somewhere nearby).

She would take her lunch at a local restaurant – 20 minute drive from the campus, and hence perfectly scarce of the student body – and then have dinner at the Faculty Club in presence of one Danny Lawrence and the other two gingers.

And she would swoon and sigh discretely whenever the tall woman spoke to her, and she felt her heart swelling in size in adoration of the tall, ginger woman.

LaFontaine always made a point to roll their eyes at Laura whenever their eyes met and Laura so happened to be pushing down a goofy, wide smile.

It was a day like any other, the routine persisted and as Laura drove down the city streets she didn't realise that something was missing.

Her regular restaurant was small and seemed to be right out of 1920s, and sometimes she'd let her mind wander and imagine she was a clad in fineries of the age, a thin cigarette hanging out of her lips as she waited for her lover to bring her a drink (she often imagined a tall ginger coming to her, passing her a smile that could stop wars and taking her hand – simply gazing at her).

She waited in the relatively short line and let her eyes and mind wander, her eye falling quickly on a beautiful woman sitting in the sun lit corner of the restaurant, completely involved in an old worn book, and sporting black leather pants (on which Laura's eyes may have lingered on for just a little bit too long).

The woman must have felt Laura's eyes drinking her in and their eyes briefly locked. Laura ducked her head, breaking the silent exchange of their eyes, and tucked a lose strand behind her ear. She could still feel the woman's eyes on her even when the line moved and she was reciting her well rehearsed order.

The cashier, an old man with a walrus moustached and sad, tired eyes, muttered out the price in course English and Laura reached into her pocket to withdraw her wallet. Only instead of finding the warm leather prodding out her jean, her fingers met the course material of her trousers. Her eyes widened and a tremor went through her body as she realised that she must have _misplaced_ her wallet somewhere. Which was pretty bad in itself, but the prospect of no food until dinner time was disgruntling to say in the least.

She bit back a curse and sheepishly looked at the man at the till hoping to find an inch of sympathy in the man's aged, worn face.

She did not.

And so she tried to explain to the man in scrambled German that she lost her wallet, and would pay him tomorrow. He ought to know her, she said, she came in ever week day at the same time, and why was he looking more and more displeased with each passing moment? Laura suppressed a grimace and as she was about to rattle off about how he really should pay more attention to his patrons (and maybe beg for him to just give her the pipping warm food already) when a warm body lodged itself between Laura's small frame and the faux wood counter.

Laura leaned back and was about to give the newcomer a piece of her mind (honestly who cuts in front of a person when there's no one behind them?) and the warm body transformed into the gorgeous lady who sat in the warm sun and had eyes as brown as the shell of a chestnut.

“I'm sorry but what are you doing? Can you maybe wait a minute-” But the woman focused on the man behind the counter.

“Ich werde für sie zahlen,” the voice of the dark lady poured over Laiura like melted chocolate with just enough husk to get her hair to stand on it's ends and a pleasant shiver to run the length of her (rather short) spine.

All Laura could do was stare with a bated breath.

It took her brain a minute longer than she would've liked to process the alluringly spoken phrase and when she did, she barely managed to stop the dark lady's hand from handing over the money to the sour faced man who just sighed in exasperation and looked at Laura like she had two heads.

“I'm sorry I really can't let you do that.” She spoke around the cotton in her mouth. Carmilla's eyes zeroed in on Laura's hand, still grasping the leather of her jacket, and trailed up her arm to finally settle on Laura's honey coloured eyes. She looked at Laura as if she could see into the abyss of her soul, and Laura felt her knees shake under the merciless scrutiny of eyes older than the face where they rested.

“Why's that?”

She nearly forgot how to breathe. Her mouth sputtered into action, completely disconnected with her brain, and she was vaguely aware of her mouth embracing the words ' _Patriarchal rules_ ', and yet still more aware of the eyes that crinkled in amusement.

Oh how the dark lady's eyes shone and beckoned her. Those dark eyes were the kind to spill all the secrets of their owner and yet tell her nothing at all; she was completely lost in them like a sailor at sea and wanted nothing more but to remain lost.

“How about this, we'll call it even if you have lunch with me,” Carmilla interrupted Laura's rant effectively and rose her eyebrow into her hairline, pulling a cocky smirk across at her lips.

_Oh she must think she's so attractive_ , Laura thought without a hint of bitterness, _and she's right. She's absolutely right_.

And Laura was nodding and saying that, yes she would love to eat lunch with her, and _ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod_ how could she be so lucky to be both saved and enraptured by the beauty with the name as pretty as her face.

She was as pale as the first flowers that break the snow, as dark as the night. She was the prowling cat in the small hours of the morning, before the sun dragged its lazy fingers across the Earth's skin, and with eyes that shone bright in the night. And Laura would give anything to be the mouse it feasts upon if but those eyes were turned on her as her last memory.

She was the most beautiful woman Laura had seen (and she had seen many pretty ladies).

But words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them as the dark lady led them to the only sun bathed table in the sparsely populated restaurant.. “Excuse me but who the hell are you?” She sounded breathless to her own ears.

“Carmilla, sweetheart,”

Laura's actions were mechanical, her brain focused only on Carmilla, her heart pumping harder and faster each time their eyes met Her breath hitched when Carmilla pulled the chair out for her and quickly sat opposite her.

“Why don't you tell me your name, cutie?” The dark lady asked once they've settled down.

“I'm Laura Hollis.”

Laura didn't know how the words formed on her tongue and moved past her lips. She didn't understand how the world didn't stop and stare at the way the bright light illuminated and softened each of the dark lady's features like the gentlest paint stroke or how the glints of sun caught the brown of her and lightened it.

And in return, Carmilla's eyes flicked across Laura's face, paying attention to the smallest details, with such vivid care to it that one would think Laura's face hid the answer to the meaning of life in the very atom of her being. That, if Carmilla looked away even for the briefest second, it would fade to nothing.

“Why don't you tell me a bit about you, cupcake?”

And Laura agreed with a small nod and lopsided smile.

They talked for what seemed like hours, between bites of food, constantly gazing into the others' eyes as the clock ticked by and it was five minutes before Laura's break was over and she rushed out the door with a brief kiss on Carmilla's cheek and a promise to meet her again so she could pay her back for a lovely lunch.

Laura was gone out the door when Carmilla's smile breaks out in full strength.

The small woman was late to the lecture but her smile didn't care.

* * *

 When Laura took her dinner in the Faculty Club that evening, she was met with an inquisitive LaFontaine and concerned Perry. And under threat of 'no brownies for a week, Laura' she told the two the story of the dark lady at a sun light bistro in the old town.

Her smile never flattered.

She didn't see Danny coming in as she recalled the tale, nor the tall woman leaving with a tight lip and clenched fists and jaw, all but baring her canines at the woman from the story.

* * *

 They didn't meet again for a week.

Laura pushed the glass door of the restaurant open and stepped inside with a light step. She made her way to the counter where she was surprisingly met with a moustachioed smile and a tray left on the faux wooden counter and Laura stareed dumbly at the man, hoping her expression spoke for her.

“Ihre Freundin dort drüben ist,” he pointed to a spot behind Laura and she followed the line of his finger to the same sun lit table as last week.

_My friend?_

It clicked when she saw Carmilla enveloped in another worn book and steaming coffee in front of her. And oh her outfit was absolutely sinful. It definitely did not help that Carmilla chose that moment, when Laura was feasting her eyes on the generous expanse of thigh and slowing becoming redder (she'd blame it on the particularly warm weather), to look up and make eye contact. Not only that, the moment their eyes met, Carmilla winked and pushed the chair opposite to her out with her boot clad foot.

Laura had to force-swallow the non-existing saliva several time to get her mouth sufficiently lubricated to mutter any coherent word.

She smiled Carmilla's way and turned around, fully aware that the man could see her still pink cheeks, and removed the tray from the counter accompanied with an old man smile which she shyly returned.

“I thought it was my turn to buy you lunch?” she quipped upon approaching the sun bathed table.

Carmilla only gave her a small smile and connected their eyes once again. Laura bit her lip, a nervous habit when under such careful scrutiny, in the few silent moments and passes a hand through her hair, effectively messing them up. She doesn't see how Carmilla's eyes followed the movements of Laura's lip being captured by her blunt human teeth. The lip itself paled as it was held in a tight embrace, and then the lip was released and it gained colour as red as blood and a pout oh so attractive that Carmilla minutely forgot how to breathe.

She swallowed thickly and served up a hearty amount of confidence in her voice and eyes and anywhere eyes could look.

“Maybe I felt like treating a pretty girl with some needed nourishment?” Carmilla's smirk widened as pink dusted Laura's cheeks and the younger woman blinked her eyes several times as the meaning behind Carmilla's words slowly registered in her brain.

But Carmilla didn't give her time to mull over words anymore and instead asked Laura to tell her about her week.

She listens with undiluted interest as Laura talks with a light smile and even lighter eyes.

Her laughter bubbles inside Carmilla long after they've parted.

* * *

 They met again and again until the owner knew them well enough to know their orders the minute they walked into the restaurant. He exactly how much gravy Laura like over the potatoes. He knew exactly how Carmilla took her coffee – a drop of milk and no sugar.

Carmilla always paid.

Laura's smile grew brighter and brighter each week.

And Danny's brow darkened.

* * *

Carmilla didn't tell her the truth immediately, she stalled and halted in fear that if the blonde woman ever found out, she'd drop her.

In the end she doesn't have to say anything.

LaFontaine told Laura – the two were talking about another one of Laura and Carmilla's _meetings_ (Laura didn't dare call them _dates_ for that would mean they're more than they were: and she wasn't sure what they were) and in midst of it, LaFontaine interrupted her.

“Wait, is her name Carmilla Karnstein?” they only get a contemplative look, “Dark hair, eyeliner darker than pits of hell?”

A hesitant nod and a shy smile were Laura's answer.

“She's a lecturer.”

“In Silas?”

A nod.

“Oh.”

Perry looked up from her notes, having heard the dejected tone in Laura's voice, and nudged LaFontaine, sending them a look only decipherable by the other ginger. LaFontaine turned to Laura, words of apology and comfort on her lips but they didn't make it past their lips. Laura bristled up and forced a smile and started talking about something unrelated to the previous topic.

The other two lecturers exchanged a silent look, and played up to the masquerade.

* * *

Laura skipped the lunch  _thing_ (because calling it a  _date_ pulled at a string of something sad in her core oh so very painful that it made her want to sob)with Carmilla for the next month. She found a different restaurant at the different end of town, still 20 minutes away from the university, still sparsely populated with student body (although sometimes one of postgrads came in, took one look at her and left wordlessly with their order).

She couldn't go into restaurant. She couldn't risk anyone seeing them – the administrators of the University would be less than pleased. And really did she want to, dare she say _commit_ , to someone who already lied to her? Her mind said 'no' but her heart screamed at her, shook her, and begged her to let Carmilla in and not throw her out because of one, small transgression.

Laura listened to her mind but wanted to side with her heart.

The sun didn't shine as bright when she sat at gleaming metal table.

The staff, although more 'friendly', didn't have an old man smile that shone with old grief.

The food was tasteless on her tongue as she looked over the table only to be greeted with a desolate chair shining in the yellow light.

She didn't know why each time she's heard Carmilla's name, or thought of her, or took the turn to go to the new place, her throat constricted with an emotion she couldn't, _wouldn't_ , call by its name.

She stopped smiling as brightly and talked more to Danny if only to keep her mind of off Carmilla. She knew, vaguely and in the deep recesses of her mind, the way Carmilla made her heart feel all jittery and new, wasn't something that happened to everyone and the way Danny made her feel wasn't the same in intensity or likeness but it would do.

It had to.

* * *

 It was another week before she saw Carmilla again.

It was miserable day; a dull swab of grey with blotches of white smeared the sky as the world slowly and surely tilted away from life giving sun. The wind was sharp and crisp, stroking each passers-by face with its fine trimmed nails and breathed against their necks with a promise of a bite.

It wasn't exactly cold, the summer having only recently plagued the land, and the students of Silas University didn't seem to notice the slight change in temperature that heralded the ending of the period of warmth and beach parties and long nights. As much as the students didn't seem to care about the change; Laura did.

The fact was – she couldn't find anything in her wardrobe and deciding that she mustn't have unpacked the autumn and winter clothes out of their confines she headed down to the basement. The trip was anything but easy and caused her to be embarrassingly late to the morning lecture – a trend that continued throughout the day.

She was late coming on her lunch; a freshman, decided to talk to her just after the class ended and assaulted her with most banal questions known to woman kind.

Laura walked into the new place, hand in hair, and a sigh heavy on her lips. She would've missed the first glimpse of the woman that shook her more than any other woman before her if it weren't for a rushing postgrad running past her, out the door, and forcing her to angle her body away from the youth (although they probably weren't much older than her).

Her eyes fell on the mop of dark hair sitting at the sunlit table. Her heart stuttered and she briefly considered leaving, but her heart screamed at her that this was her sign.

As if Carmilla read her mind, she turned – connecting their eyes in the most languid fashion, like it was in her nature to find Laura's eyes each and everytime – and offered up a gentle smile, a peace-offering. But what was the use of a peace-offering when she was forgiven the moment Laura laid eyes on her.

She sat at the table waiting for Laura and she sat opposite Carmilla with a small smile grazing her lips.

“How are you, Professor Karnstein?”

“Better now, Professor Hollis,” a wry smile. Carmilla's lips sputtered out apologises quietly dressed in her usual snark and sarcasm; _aren't you a journalism lecturer? Didn't you figure it out the minute you saw me? I graded papers beside you a few times, creampuff._

Laura shrugged her shoulders. It didn't matter any more, it didn't matter if fellow professors gave them wry looks; she simply enjoyed Carmilla's company – her heart gave a whooping howl somewhere deep inside her.

Nothing changed and her heart felt lighter.

* * *

 They went back to the old, 1920s-esque, restaurant where sun shone brighter than anything else in the world.

* * *

 “How come you only ever drink coffee?” Laura asked Carmilla weeks later.

Carmilla eyed Laura over the brim of her mug and with a thin smile she breathed her words in the huskiest voice Laura had heard till date.

“I'm a vampire, cutie.”

Laura looked at her thoughtfully, digests her words, and finally smiled. Because yes, Carmilla was a vampire and nothing else truly felt right when used to describe her. The word fit Carmilla as well as her skin around her bones.

“Tell me more?”

Carmilla only hesitated for a moment and then tells her the story of love and punishment and pain and beauty that surpasses all things that ever hurt her.

Laura listens with undiluted attention, drinking each word as if she was a thirsty woman in a desert and Carmilla's words were water. She asks questions when appropriate and she patiently waits when Carmilla stalls.

She never hurried her and at the end of it, her hand covered Carmilla's and her eyes spoke for her in the quiet of the old restaurant and dull sun.

* * *

They started taking the dinner together at the Faculty Club to LaFontaine and Perry's delight, and Danny's mistrust.

It was after one of those dinners that Carmilla kissed her.

They walked through the campus hand in hand, fingers brushing against each other until they found each other in the quickly darkening evening of mid autumn. The sunset was beautiful and the reds and oranges of both the leaves and the paintstrokes of the sun against the pink sky took Carmilla's breath away.

Somewhere ages and ages hence, Carmilla would tell anyone who'd listen, with a blissful smile, that the pinks and oranges and reds caught in Laura's eyes. She'd tell them that her smile was brighter than the sun and that it was meant only for her eyes.

Laura's lips called to her and she, being always considerate of Laura's wished, leaned down, although the journey down wasn't a long one, and connected their lips in a swift motion. The pressure was gentle, a mere press of lips, and Laura wasn't kissing back so Carmilla started to move away. A breath away from Laura's lips, Laura grabbed Carmilla by the front of her leather jacket and brought her in for another kiss.

Carmilla's free hand cradled Laura soft cheek, thumb stroking her cheekbones and smiling softly against Laura's lips.

Laura sighed against her and wrapped her arms around Carmilla's neck, pulling her closer – chest to chest until their breathes became one. Carmilla complied and in turn wrapped her arms around Laura's waist, hips bones pressing with a delightful pressure which elicited a gasp (from whom, neither knew).

Carmilla broke the kiss, well aware that while she didn't need to breathe, Laura did, and placed a sweet kiss of her swollen lips while Laura caught her breath and offered up her own seduction eyes.

Laura ran her hands over Carmilla's shoulders, making her shiver, and leaned up to give Carmilla another lingering kiss.

“Why don't you come over for some coffee?”

Carmilla placed another soft kiss on Laura's lips, and then said that yes, she would very like to come over for some 'coffee'. Laura's hand was soft hers as she led them to the parking lot.

It took them nearly an hour to get to Laura's car, and then another half an hour to get to Laura's small apartment. Needless to say, making Carmilla coffee was the last thing on Laura's mind.

* * *

Laterthat night, when the walls breathed out their noises like a silent prayer, Laura and Carmilla laid together on Laura's couch – clothes strewn everywhere and a rapidly cooling mug of coffee on the table. Neither of the two women paid it any attention.

They kissed and kissed and kissed until Carmilla's mind was narrowly focused on Laura. Nothing else existed, just Laura, Laura, Laura. Her name came out like a confession and Laura gripped her hips and dragged her hands down, down, where she needed them most.

And two perfect puncture marks graced Laura's breast.

* * *

Carmilla taken to staying at Laura's nearly every night after that, and soon, lived more at Laura's apartment than her own.

Carmilla's old age sensibilities didn't particularly enjoy (basically) living at another's house without a set relationship status. And so Carmilla gave into her old-age sensibilities.

She prepared everything impeccably and dropped Laura off to her morning lecture with a kiss and a promise she'd meet her for dinner as always.

Carmilla was a jittering mess, adjusting and changing her outfit every few minutes, and constantly gussing up in the mirror, going over and over the carefully rehearsed lines. She knotted her hand in her hair, messing up her dark curls even further and finally, out of sheer frustration, tied up her hair a messy bun.

She went through the lectures constantly fidgeting, her words being hardly eligible as she explained Voltaire view on the church and religion for what seemed like an umpteenth time. Her eyes constantly finding the clock either on the wall or on her laptop.

She finished the lecture quickly, nearly running out before the undergrads could get up and out of their seats; much less ask her questions.

Carmilla grabbed the prepared items from the back of her car and trudged through the campus to the Robespierre building.

Laura was already in the Faculty Club, laughing at a joke she heard from LaFontaine, her laughter filled the stern interior of the Club and when she spotted Carmilla across the way the room, her smile only belonged to Carmilla. Her long dead heart kick started and for a minute Carmilla thought that it was a prelude to her undead death. However, it continued in a steady beat as she approached the table and kissed Laura on the cheek (surprising Laura and the two gingers; Danny all but glowered at her but she paid the pup no heed).  
They ate the dinner and Carmilla fought with herself not to fidget (apparently she wasn't very good at it because Perry nearly shoved them out of Faculty Club).

“Hey, mind going somewhere with me?” She asked as their hands found each other as if they magnets.

“Anywhere with you Carm,” they started walking towards Robespierre building, attracting minimum attention from the few students meandering about the campus. The sky shed it's oranges and reds and pinks in favour of black ink and a Cheshire grinning moon.

“Do mind me asking you something?” Laura asked as Carmilla led them towards the stairs to the roof and up, up, up. Laura was surprisingly quiet as they walked through the campus under the careful gaze of stars.

“Sure, sweetie,” Laura pulled at Carmilla's hand as they reached the landing to go onto the roof and Carmilla turned with a raised brow.

“Carmilla, you've become someone really special over the past months and I really want to continue this,” she gestured between them, “ _thing_ that we've got going on. So, I was wondering if maybe – and it's totally fine if you don't want to! - just maybe you'd like to be my girlfriend?” she finished and scratched her neck, biting her lip, and waited for Carmilla's response.

She got a laugh instead and Carmilla pushed the door open and pulled Laura through, silencing her with a kiss.

“I thought I was the big damn hero of our story, Laura,” a quirked eyebrow as she spun Laura around and wrapped her arms around Laura's waist.

She set out a large blanket on the concrete of the building and brought all manners of pillows, including Laura's oh so ugly yellow pillow along for the show. A basket full of Laura's favourite cookies and wine rested beside the blanket. Lit candles sat around near the nest, far away not to be a fire hazard, and extra blankets were piled near the head of the nest.

Laura took it all in and slowly turned around in Carmilla's arms, her own arms snaked up around Carmilla's neck and fingers played with the strands of dark hair.

“You still are the big damn hero,” she looked at Carmilla as if stars were in her eyes and the universe under her skin.

“Then I guess I can be your hero for as long as you'll have me.”

They kissed for the longest time, pouring everything they've felt for each other into it.

They broke apart and Carmilla rested her forehead against Laura's. “I'm very much in love with you, Laura.”

“And I'm very much in love with you, Carmilla.”

 


End file.
